


(Almost) Victory

by pureheartcitizen (thirdeyeopen)



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Dib attempts to dissect Zim, My First Work in This Fandom, it fails because Zim knows how to get to him, this may be ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 01:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20845556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirdeyeopen/pseuds/pureheartcitizen
Summary: Zim awakens on an operating table.Dib is the happiest kid in the world.





	(Almost) Victory

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make my day! If you enjoyed, please be sure to comment.

Zim wakes up on a table. It's as cold as ice, digging through the back of his uniform to touch his skin. His back arches almost immediately, bringing something to his attention. Groggy eyes snap into focus. The alien turns his head to glance at his left hand. Shock - not fear - strikes his heart, like a spark bursting forth from the combined friction of two rocks. 

His hand - both of them, actually - is bound to the table at its wrist. He can clench a fist or wiggle a finger, but that's it. As he draws his leg in to bend it at the knee, he realizes there's another issue. His legs are in the same predicament, bound together while his hands are spread out from his sides. 

Zim lifts his head, scouring the ceiling with alert eyes. "Computer?" He calls, waiting for the device's ever-annoyed voice to respond. "Computer? Are you there?" But nothing comes.

Zim scours the room he's in next, and realizes he doesn't recognize it at all. It's a lab, but it's not  _ his  _ lab. No wonder Computer didn't respond. He takes in every part of the place, trying to recognize at least one thing. Nothing. 

An annoyed huff pushes back the silence as Zim lowers his gaze to his feet. If he were some dumb human, he'd probably be scared by then. But he's only annoyed. Today's the wrong day for this to happen; he has plans, and a battle with Dib, and… 

Wait a minute. 

The annoyance quickly bubbles into anger, as Zim growls and grits his teeth. Furiously, he raises his head and yells out. 

"DIB-STINK!!! SHOW YOUR UGLY FACE!!!" 

It takes a moment, but soon Zim is alerted by the sound of the door opening. He lifts his head and glares, immediately being met with the sight of the ugly Dib, who is calmly closing the door behind himself. 

He. Knew. It. 

Blood boiling, Zim tracks Dib's every move, despite being ignored. Dib has his eyes closed, a calm, infuriating smile on his face as he walks to a countertop across from the table Zim is stuck to. The alien doesn't take his eyes off his enemy even once, his furious glare only intensifying as he continues to be ignored. His rage increases until it finally boils over. 

"ZIM DEMANDS TO BE FREED AT ONCE!" He yells with his eyes closed, reopening them only to be met with the same image as before. Dib is still ignoring him, seeming to be fiddling with something he picked up off the counter. 

Seething, Zim yanks his left arm. The cuff binding him to the table prevents his hand from going anywhere, doing nothing but straining his shoulder. He tries it again, the table legs scraping against the floor and making noise. 

"Free me at once, you pitiful smelly human!" He demands, fruitlessly trying to squirm free of his binds. No matter what he does, he's ignored. Eventually all his strength is gone; he lays on the table, panting through grit teeth. 

And that's when Dib turns around.

The smile is gone, but seeing Dib's face at all is enough to make Zim angry again. He growls, glaring daggers at the human as he steps for the table. 

"Nice tantrum, Zim." Dib comments, staring down the trapped alien. He's poking his finger against something sharp, and Zim soon realizes that it's a weapon. A knife. It's then that his PAK warns him of the danger, suggesting he keep on alert. But it's no use. He couldn't go anywhere if he wanted to. "I was beginning to think you'd never be quiet." 

"The mighty Zim demands to be let go." Zim responds. His voice is softer as a result of depleting energy, but he's still obviously very angry. Dib, however, still doesn't care. 

The human groans in response. He's standing at the side of the table, staring down at Zim. 

"That's not how the game is played, Zim." Dib says softly. Something about the tone in his voice sends a chill down Zim's spine. "I caught you. I've won fair and square." 

"No you didn't." Zim counters, confused. "Those stupid skoolchildren still aren't onto me. Nobody's convinced. You haven't  _ won."  _

A pause. Then, Dib's eyebrows raise, his expression reading consideration, a "Well, that's true." 

"Hm." He says, moving his hand on the handle of the knife. "You're right, Zim. But I think you forgot, so let me remind you… we're playing two games at once." 

Zim's expression changes, going from anger to confusion, staring down his enemy in puzzlement. Dib continues to explain.

"In the beginning, we both had a goal. You wanted to destroy humankind and rule the Earth. I wanted to expose you and foil your plan. But we were curious of each other. We said that, should one of us ever catch the other, we'd do something to them… do you remember what that was, Zim?" 

Zim  _ does _ know. He just doesn't say it. 

"We said we would cut each other open. See what's inside." Dib says after the pause. "No anesthetic. No surviving." 

Zim begins to squirm then, tearing his attention away from Dib in favor of shutting his eyes. 

"You- You can't!" He yells. "The mighty Zim will not be part of this  _ twisted  _ game any longer!" 

At this, Dib laughs. His quiet voice is loud now. He sounds gleeful, maniacally happy, like a man with everything going right. 

"Twisted game?" He echoes, a laugh chopping the words up. "You only have an objection when it's  _ you  _ instead of me! _ "  _

Zim's begun to yank against his binds again, though his joints protest. Pathetic human traps could only  _ dream  _ of holding an Irken for forever! He was going to get free, and when he did, he'd make that ugly Dib wish he was never hatched. 

"I gotta say, it was fun while it lasted." Dib continues, ignoring the efforts if escape by his trapped enemy. "The fighting, the banter. The thrilling game of cat and mouse! All it was was  _ filler!"  _

Zim's yanking grew more desperate as he did. His PAK was sending signals to his brain so rapidly that he couldn't think of anything else. 

_ Get out, get free, he's going to cut you open, he's going to kill you. Danger, get free. Run.  _

Dib slammed a hand down on the table, bringing Zim's movements to an abrupt halt. 

The human's voice was booming now. He threw both his hands out to his sides, the glint of his knife catching a light and drawing Zim's attention to it. 

"So many years have led to this moment!" Dib yelled gloriously. Gripping the knife with two hands, he raised the weapon high above his head, a twisted smile stretching his lips as he stared down in excitement at his prey. Ziim's PAK began to crank out alerts faster than ever, faster than Zim could process what they were saying.  _ Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout, he's going to kill you, you're going to die.  _

"Any last words,  _ Zim?"  _ Dib hissed through smiling teeth, staring his enemy in the panicked eye. 

Suddenly, pushing through the chaos, an idea comes forth. It would humiliate him, would go against everything he had ever done. It wasn't what Irkens did. It would shame his kind if they ever knew. 

But he was out of options. 

He drops his antennas, widening his eyes so that they become big. Fearful. He pushes a frown, and the feeling of shame burns. Even his PAK is offended.  _ You're an Irken. Irkens don't show fear!  _ ** _Fight back! _ **

But the effect is instant. Dib's smile drops, his eyes going from gleeful to surprised. 

"Hey…" the human says softly, staring down at Zim in confusion. Zim stares back the same, fighting through his PAK's protests to keep up the fearful look. 

"Don't… look at me like that…" Dib says slowly, observing his enemy's expression. "All… weak… that's not you!" 

When he gets no response, Dib seems to snap. An angry hand slams on the table, just above Zim's trapped left arm. Dib eans down slightly, glaring daggers at his enemy. But his eyes aren't angry; Zim searches them. They're  _ desperate _ . 

His PAK has a sudden change of heart.  _ It's working!  _

"Cmon, mock me!" Dib urges, holding the knife a safe enough distance away from Zim. "Yell! Say something!" 

Nothing. It only increases Dib's desperation. He can only take so much of that  _ stupid expression.  _ He gives an infuriated, drawn-out "grr" before his anger boils over. 

"STOP LOOKING AT ME WITH THOSE FEARFUL FUCKING EYES!" He roars. The knife comes up as he does so, and that's when Zim flinches, knowing it's coming down this time. He waits for pain, for whatever the feeling of being stabbed is. But nothing comes. 

Dib has planted the knife into the table. On purpose. Zim blinks in shock at the sight of the blade just inches away from his face, his mind racing as he tries to figure out what just happened.

"I worked so hard!" Dib is yelling again, but his voice is nowhere near as loud as before. The desperation is evident as ever. "I deserve this! I deserve to win! So please!" 

Zim doesn't move. His eyes are screwed tightly shut, his antennas practically glued against the table. Anything to play the part. 

Dib drops to the floor, tall enough to avoid dropping below the table. He rests his elbows on the metal surface, hiding his eyes with his own his hands, fingers grasping fist-fulls of his own hair. If anyone had caught a glimpse of him, then had to describe the sight later, they'd probably say he looked like a man who had lost everything. 

And they'd be right. 

"Make me want to do this…" Dib whines. His voice is weak now, pathetic sounding. Like he has no strength left to yell. 

Silence follows. Zim is still looking away, and lacks the willpower to turn his head and see his enemy like that. 

It was the right thing to do, Zim thinks to himself. But if that was true, then why did it feel so wrong? Dib wasn't just some kid who would  _ give up _ on something like dissecting his enemy. He was stubborn, and crazy, and hellbent. 

Dib wasn't Dib. But it made perfect sense. 

Because Zim wasn't Zim either. 

After a while, Dib lets him go. Zim skitters from the lab like a captured animal released into the wild, disappearing down the street. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
